


the time of year to be with the one that you love

by thecrackshiplollipop



Series: 12 Days of Julyberry [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Holidays, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:24:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrackshiplollipop/pseuds/thecrackshiplollipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Rachel got Cassie to wear an ugly holiday sweater for pictures that eventually found their way onto Facebook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the time of year to be with the one that you love

“I’m still not sure how you talked me into this,” Cassie hisses, holding onto Alina’s belt loop as they pick their way through the backstage area of the theatre where her friend works.

“Cassie, this is good for you. You’re a human being who needs interaction with people other than your shitty students and the bartender at your favourite wine bar.”

“Excuse you, I have you. And-” Cassie huffs, almost tripping over a prop that some idiot left lying on the ground.

“Teachers from NYADA don’t count.” Alina waves her hand, knocking away a rope in the process. “I still can’t believe you wouldn’t wear a tacky sweater,” Alina says sharply over her shoulder, “you’re going to look so out of place.”

“And yet, way hotter than everyone else. I feel like it’s a fair trade,” Cassie says snootily. Alina makes some mocking noises that get lost under the music and chatter coming from just a few yards ahead of them.

“Here we go,” Alina says, sounding relieved as she reaches out to push through a thick black curtain leading to the stage.

“Alina!” Someone shouts as they emerge from the wings of the stage. Cassie is still standing behind her friend, but she steps away just as someone comes crashing into Alina.

“You brought someone!” The voice belongs to a small, lithe black man who carries himself like every dancer Cassie has ever known.

“Oh, this is my friend,” Alina turns around and motions for Cassie to step forward. “Everyone, this is Cassie.”

Cassie suddenly wishes she’d tripped over one of those ridiculous props backstage. She would take a twisted ankle over finding herself standing two feet from Rachel Berry in a hideous light up menorah sweater.

“Holy shit.”

“Oh my god,” Rachel looks as stunned as Cassie feels.

“Oh, you know each other?” Alina looks at Cassie, head tilted and a bemused smirk on her face.

Cassie steps close to Alina so she can say, in her deadliest whisper, “you know who she is, Alina. Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was in your musical?”

“Oh my goodness, is that champagne?” Alina says dramatically, winking at Cassie before she brushes her away and moves towards the refreshment table. “I love champagne!”

“I hate you,” Cassie says at Alina’s back.

“That’s not very nice,” Rachel says, somehow suddenly standing within earshot of Cassie’s grumpy mumblings. “I haven’t even seen you in two years.” She smiles tightly, like she hopes it’ll actually make that truth funny, somehow. But she’s never been very good at hiding her emotions and Cassie can see it in her eyes exactly how much that actually hurts her.

“I-” Cassie crosses her arms over her chest and tries her best to seem casual. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh,” Rachel frowns and opens her mouth again, eyes flashing hard like she’s preparing to rip into Cassie, but she thinks better of it and takes a sip of champagne. “You’re not wearing an ugly holiday sweater,” she says airily, looking Cassie up and down appraisingly.

“Yeah, no. I’m here because Alina is a con artist, not because I like tacky sweaters.”

“Unacceptable,” Rachel says lightly and downs the rest of her champagne, “come on.” In a flash, her champagne glass is gone and she’s grabbing Cassie’s hand like there wasn’t all this unspoken stuff between them.

“Hold up Schwim, I’m not letting you kidnap me.” Cassie tries to tug her hand loose but Rachel holds on tight, her fingers still cold from the champagne glass.

“First, it’s Rachel. And second, Cassie, you’re not getting out of wearing an ugly sweater. I won’t have you ruin the Facebook pictures with your Grinch-ery.” She tugs on Cassie’s hand again, and this time Cassie lets herself be pulled, because people are starting to watch them and she can see Alina grinning evilly over the shoulder of one of her castmates. Cassie silently vows to stuff Alina into a cello case later and practically trips over her own feet as she and Rachel exit, stage left.

\----

Rachel drags Cassie into the tiniest dressing room Cassie has ever seen. The make up table is laughably small, only half of the bulbs around the mirror are working, and there’s a long sofa eating up the other wall. On the floor, taking up most of the walking room, is a weathered cardboard box, sweaters pouring out and strewn across the floor like extremely tacky leaves. The light is so poor that Cassie wishes Rachel hadn’t turned off her sweater before going inside.

“I brought my own sweater because, hello, Chanukah, but Aaron bought a pallet of tacky sweaters in Brooklyn and was kind enough to bring loaners.” Rachel bends over and starts rooting through the piles on the floor, “you still wear a small, right?”

“Mm,” Cassie hums in agreement, trying not to stare at Rachel’s ass while she’s bent over.

(She fails, of course.)

(Old habits die hard.)

“I think there was one in here with a... Santa cat on it. It’d be perfect for you.”

“Oh god, no. Just, is there anything black?”

“Typical,” Rachel snorts, moving to another pile. “So, Alina?”

“No,” Cassie says quickly, wishing she’d grabbed a glass of something alcoholic before following Rachel. “She taught at NYADA for all of one semester before she quit, citing her hatred for untalented infants.”

Rachel lets out a laugh that reminds Cassie of better times, “sounds exactly like her.”

“Yes, well, needless to say, we kept in touch.”

“And she just randomly decided to drag you to an otherwise unexciting off-Broadway tacky sweater party.”

“I’m starting to think it’s not so random,” Cassie says, mostly to herself.

“Ah! Here,” Rachel says, standing up triumphantly. She’s halfway across the room, standing in a shadow, holding aloft something that’s jingling and has a giant green tree on the front. “It’s black,” she says, shaking the garment for emphasis so the room temporarily fills with the high tinkling of bells. “Come here.”

For some reason, Cassie complies without complaint. Maybe it’s because she can’t shake how hurt Rachel had looked earlier, or because she figures Rachel will stop bothering her if she just puts something hideous on.

“Take off your sweater,” Rachel says, as bossy as ever.

“Why?” Cassie asks, brow arched.

“It’s too small to go over that,” Rachel motions at Cassie’s slouchy knit sweater.

“Then find something else, I’m not getting strange sweater germs all over me.”

“Cassie,” Rachel says, a rush of exasperation making her bold. She throws the sweater over her shoulder and steps forward, gripping the hem of Cassie’s sweater with both hands. “Please.” There’s just enough pleading in her voice that it takes Cassie back, three years, and she’s hovering over Rachel in her condo, fingers teasing Rachel over her underwear, waiting to hear those exact words out of Rachel’s mouth. Cassie feels herself flush, embarrassed and mildly aroused, and jerks away from Rachel’s touch.

“Wow,” Rachel’s expression flashes with hurt before it hardens. “Okay. Well. Just. Stay out of the pictures then.” She drops the sweater back to the ground and moves to step around Cassie so she can get out of the room.

“Sch-wait, Rachel-” Cassie says quickly, stepping into Rachel’s pathway with her hands up. “I didn’t mean-”

“What?” Rachel bites out, her unaffected veneer finally dropping away.

“It’s been two years… but being up here makes it feel like all of that was just yesterday. It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“You’re not the only one,” Rachel says dryly, still refusing to make eye contact with Cassie. “Do you even remember how that ended?”

“Of course.” Cassie snaps, her usual meanness boiling up like bile.

“Okay. Do what you want, Cassie. Let’s just go back to the party and pretend we couldn’t find anything that fit.” Rachel moves to step around Cassie again, lips pursed angrily.

“I’ll wear the stupid sweater,” Cassie says, disgusted with how much it sounds like she’s begging. But there she is, pulling off her own sweater in this stuffy little dressing room to prove something to this impossible woman.

Rachel turns around at the sound of bells jingling as Cassie snatches the sweater off of the floor. It’s actually hideous, covered in sequins and little bells that make noise at the slightest movement. Cassie makes a face, holding it gingerly so it doesn’t make too much noise.

“I don’t get you.”

“There’s not a whole lot to get,” Cassie says, distracted by the sweater. Rachel steps close, bumping the sweater so the bells ring softly. It’s enough to catch Cassie’s attention and she recognises the look in Rachel’s eyes, a mixture of want and confusion.

“Cassie…”

The past comes rushing forward and there’s nothing Cassie can see herself doing but kissing this frustrating woman. So she does. She kisses her, ugly sweater with its jingling bells falling to the floor as she uses both hands to cup Rachel’s jaw. Rachel kisses like the past two years hadn’t happened, they’re standing in the snow in Central Park and she’s telling Cassie she loves her. Her mouth tastes like champagne and strawberries and her skin still smells warm, like the perfume she’s always worn. Cassie rubs her thumbs  over Rachel’s cheeks, remembering the softness of every inch of her skin like it’s only been days since she last touched her. It all comes back to Cassie, rushing through her body like warm whiskey, and Rachel is kissing her back with such want that it makes Cassie feel weak.

“Cassie,” Rachel says against her mouth, her name sounding more like a sob.

“I’m,” Cassie pulls away just enough to see Rachel’s face, a weird mixture of confusion and arousal roiling in her mind. Rachel looks like she’s trying not to cry and the guilt in Cassie’s heart boils over into some uncontrollable monster. “I’m sorry,” she breathes out, realising she actually means it for once. “I shouldn’t-” Only, Rachel doesn’t let her finish. They’re kissing again and this time there’s more urgency in it, like Rachel’s worried that reality will come knocking on the dressing room door.

Cassie grabs Rachel’s shoulders, runs her hands down her arms and then takes hold of the hem of Rachel’s sweater.

“This is fucked up,” Cassie half-laughs, pulling Rachel’s sweater off so fast she can hear the static electricity crackle against Rachel’s skin.

“No it’s not,” Rachel says, pulling Cassie back in for another kiss, hands wandering along the bare skin of Cassie’s back. “I’m not your student anymore.”

“Shit,” Cassie hisses, because what Rachel said shouldn’t even be sexy, and yet it is, and she feels herself get wet. She backs Rachel across the room, both of them stumbling over sweaters until they reach the couch.  Rachel falls down onto the couch without prelude, but Cassie takes her time, straddling Rachel’s thigh as she leans over her prone form.

Cassie didn’t even know she needed this, has been needing this for years, but now she has it; half-naked Rachel Berry, pliant, and receptive underneath her, looking at Cassie with lust-darkened eyes. She dances her fingers down Rachel’s mouth, tracing the curve of her bottom lip before capturing her chin with two fingers and pulling her into a rough kiss.

“Can I?” Cassie says breathlessly, sliding her hand up Rachel’s thigh until just her fingertips are under the hem of her skirt.

“Yes,” Rachel bites her lip and lifts her hips as Cassie rucks her skirt up around her waist.

Cassie slips her fingers between Rachel’s legs, pressing against the heat there and feeling just the slightest hint of her wetness. “Oh, fuck.” Cassie groans, a wave of desire washing over her body. It only takes a moment of Cassie’s teasing strokes to get Rachel worked up, whining please repeatedly like it would change Cassie’s game. Cassie just smiles, a flicker of malice passing over her face as she pulls her fingers away. Rachel lets out a strangled noise of frustration, twisting her hips at the loss of contact.

“You’re still so predictable,” Cassie says, swatting the inside of Rachel’s thigh before leaning over her and kissing the pout away from her mouth.

She could be gentle, it’s been years. But Cassie remembers just how Rachel likes to be touched, blunt nails scratching down the sensitive skin of her stomach, hickeys on thighs and breasts, marks left in places she can easily cover with clothes. They were never much for gentleness. Cassie never forgot that about Rachel; the dirty things she’d whisper in Cassie’s ear when they hadn’t seen each other for days, how easy it was to get Rachel wet without even touching her.

She bites Rachel’s bottom lip, harder than a nip but not hard enough to draw blood. She’s rewarded with a surprised yelp, and moves down Rachel’s front, trailing bites and kisses in her wake. Rachel writhes, murmuring half-formed thoughts before Cassie’s teeth meet her skin and all she can do is moan.

Cassie works her fingers under the elastic of Rachel’s underwear, sliding them down through slick, wet curls to her clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet. I-”

“Cassie,” Rachel whimpers, her hips rolling to meet Cassie’s touch like a wave. Cassie inhales sharply and slides her fingers down, looking up at Rachel before she pushes two fingers inside. Rachel arches her back, unable to bite back a loud moan, and Cassie leans close to press her mouth, her teeth to Rachel’s neck.

“Hey if you two are quite done in there, we’re ready to take photographs.” Alina’s voice drifts in through the door, followed by muffled giggling.

“Holy shit!” Cassie rears back, losing her balance so she topples right off of Rachel and onto the pile of sweaters below. Rachel scrambles off the couch, moving into a shadowy area in case Alina decides to come in.

“I knew it!” It’s another one of the actresses from the show, there’s more giggling and then Alina is shouting something in Russian.

“We’ll wait for you downstairs,” Alina says, speaking in English again, and then there’s laughter and the audible sound of heels clomping away from the dressing room door.

“That bitch,” Cassie hisses, sitting back down on the couch. “I was about to-”

“I know,” Rachel says, voice muffled by her sweater as she’s pulling it over her head.

“You can’t be serious,” Cassie says, sounding incredibly put out. “I didn’t even get a chance!”

“I know,” Rachel’s head pops out of the sweater and frowns, “but knowing they’re down there timing us is really killing the mood.”

“Fair point,” Cassie sighs and reaches for the sweater that started all of this. “But you’re coming home with me tonight.”

“Oh,” Rachel bites her lip, fidgeting with her sweater, “are you sure? I mean…”

“There’s no chance in hell I’m done with you.” Cassie pushes off of the sofa, ignoring the sweater again in favour of pulling Rachel against her and kissing her, a little jolt of static sparking at their touch. Rachel lets out a little yelp of surprise, but then there’s a click and the front of Rachel’s sweater starts to glow between them.

“You turned my sweater on,” Rachel laughs against Cassie’s mouth.

“I think I changed my mind,” Cassie mumbles, looking down at Rachel’s sweater. Rachel just rolls her eyes and pulls Cassie back for a kiss. The party can wait a little longer.


End file.
